The Way Tom Is
by InternetJunkie
Summary: Chamille Rhodes life is about to change with just a single invitation to Hogwarts. From meeting Tom Riddle in their first year, to falling in love with him in their seventh, Chamille has a lot to learn about life and how it will never be just how she's pictured it.
1. In The Beginning

[[A/N: The quotes in this prologue are directly from Wikipedia. I do not own the characters in this story, or the major happenings, those rights belong to JK Rowling! This will have a bit of oddness, romance and will be written in the perspective of my own character, Chamille Rhodes. This will be done in years, Year One, Year Two, etc...some years will take longer to write about (5-7) while 1-4 wont take as long...]]

Prologue:

"I remember she said to me 'I hope he looks like his papa', and I won't lie she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty — and then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father — yes, I know, funny name, isn't it? We wondered whether she came from a circus — and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word."

\- Mrs. Cole tells Dumbledore what Merope Gaunts last words were.

Dear Tom was born in the latest month of 1926 to Merope Gaunt, after she had realeased her husband, Tom Riddle Senior, from the enchantment of a love potion. Poor Merope died not long after having a beautiful baby boy, whom she demanded be named after his father and grandfather.

The boy grew up in a muggle orphanage full of bullies who called him a freak. At the age of eleven, he was already a nasty creature and when a man named Dumbledore came to visit him, that was made all to clear, unfortunately, nobody thought anything of it at the time.

"I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt if I want to...I can speak to snakes too. They find me, whisper things. "

\- Eleven Year old Tom Riddle to Albus Dumbledore

The orphanage was a dingy place, and as far as anyone knew, he had no idea of his half-blood heritage, but he did have an astounding grasp on his powers already for a child his age and an amazing amount of control over said abilities. From being able to control animals, Parseltongue and moving things with just his mind, Tom Riddle the second was already advanced in the art of Wizardry.

"His powers...were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and — most interestingly and ominously of all — he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them, and begun to use them consciously...they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards: He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

-Albus Dumbledore talking about Tom's Magical capabilities.

As Dumbledore explained to him about Hogwarts, Tom was sure that he was simply a doctor or psychiatrist, and so the Headmaster was forced to use a Flame-Freezing charm in order to demonstrate that he was not a doctor of any sort and to prove that witches and wizards are real.

Surprisingly, Tom was not at all surprised to be a wizard, in fact he very much liked the idea of being different. He hated being similar to so many people, one of the reasons he hated his own name, as it was such a common name and he was eager to find that he had powers that not many other people did.

That is where the story truly begins.

When Tom Riddle finally went to Hogwarts.


	2. Year One, Only Part

[[A/N: I'm doing this in YEARS, and then in PARTS. So it's Year One, Part One, or in this case the only part to year one. Then it'll be Year Two, Part One, Year Two, Part Two, etc... ]]

Year One: Only Part

"May I sit here?" I questioned the boy who sat in the only carriage that still had empty spaces. The others were full, some type of invisible horses carrying them off up to the castle known as Hogwarts. This boy, however, was alone. I wondered why briefly, before shaking my head. There was nothing wrong with him, perhaps he just preferred being by himself.

"If you must," the boy muttered. He was really quite adorable with dark brown-black hair and beautiful icy blue eyes. His face still held baby fat, with slightly pudgy cheeks and pouting pink lips.

"Thank you." Grabbing the hem of my cloak so that I wouldn't step on it, I stepped up the stairs and took a seat across from the boy.

"Ouch!" I cried, as I forgot to sweep my hair up and ended up sitting upon it. I stood back up quickly and tied my hair into a knot before plopping unceremoniously back into the seat. Good thing my Mother hadn't seen that, she'd give me an earful.

"I'm Chamille!" I held out my hand, like my father said I always should, but the boy just sneered, knocking my hand out of the way.

"Leave me alone, I said you could sit here; not make pointless small talk and try to be friends. I'm not interested."

My eyes filled with tears, which demanded to be released. I was always over-emotional, my father hated it but my mother said it was perfectly normal.

"Why are you crying?" The boy questioned, his voice filled with annoyance.

"I-I'm sorry. I was just trying to be nice..."

The carriage was completely quiet up until the point when we arrived at the school. As he got out, he waited for me, his hand up waiting to help me out of the carriage like a true gentleman. Maybe he didn't hate me as much as I thought he did...

"My name is Tom. Tom Riddle."

I grinned before repeating it. "Tom...Riddle." It rolled off of my tongue easily and I must have been smiling madly because Tom was looking at me with raised eyebrows.

As we walked up the steps to the door I realized that we were still holding hands from when Tom had helped me out of the carriage, but I smiled and carried on as if I had completely forgotten. His hand was so very soft, and it reminded me of the way my mother would hold my hand before... Before I turned eleven.

The rest of the first years crowded around us at a set of double doors, there were very few girls, only five, including myself but nearly twenty boys. The girls that were in the crowd looked very prim and proper, the kind of girl my mother wanted me to be. I could never be that pretty or that polite or proper.

"Don't squeeze so hard, Chamille." The boy, my new friend Tom, whispered and I realized that I had his fingers in a deadly grip between my own. Oh no! I hurt my first friend!

More tears filled my green eyes as I apologized several times and I wiped at them without much progress. For each tear I caught with my hand, two more fell.

"Stop crying. It makes you look stupid."

I blinked, surprised at how normal he sounded as he insulted me, as if he were simply commenting on the weather. But that wasn't how I saw it.

My over-emotional self simply cried harder as I released his hand and pushed my way unceremoniously through the crowd. I didn't like my new friend very much, he was much too mean and reminded me too much of my home.

"Chamille, wait! I'm sorry..." I heard, but I didn't look back.

"Ah, the new students! Just who I've been wanting to see," I looked up at the man who had come to our family's residence to explain to me about being a witch. I remembered his name being one Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. He was an older man, looking to be near his late sixties, with graying beard and hair, each of which went to his midsection. The man wore the funniest clothing I'd ever seen, but he was nice and I became rather attached to him from the moment he told me I'd be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Come along now, follow me," Professor Dumbledore led the way through the double doors, into a dining hall with four extra long tables filled with students and another table at the front filled with Professors.

"Line up along this wall here, and come up to the front when your name is called."

With a wink, Dumbledore was gone, long robes swishing behind him as he went and the other eleven year olds stood in a single-file line.

A boy named Henry Ainsley was sorted first, being put into Hufflepuff, and after him three boys in a row, last names Brady, Buck and Calvert were sorted into Slytherin, and on it went until there was just four others and I.

"Chamille Rhodes," Professor Dumbledore's voice called out. With shaking hands and knocking knees, I made my way through the aisle between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables and sat on the stool.

My eyes wandered across the dining hall, catching the eye of one Tom Riddle. His cerulean gaze held mine, and I thought I saw the emotionally-detached boy smile, just ever-so-slightly.

Grinning, I listened on attentively as the talking Sorting Hat sat on my head. He spoke of loyalty, of being over-emotional and of being too caring for my own good. In the end, I was placed in Hufflepuff and as the table I was supposed to go to stood up and began to clap, I smiled. Walking as lady-like as possible, I sat down next to Henry Ainsley, the first one to have been sorted that day, and he smiled shyly as I smiled right back.

"Riddle, Tom."

Jerking my head towards him, I smiled as encouragingly as possible. He didn't look nervous, or shy, he strode up to the stool and sat down, back straight and eyes perfectly calm.

"Slytherin!" The hat yelled, and the furthest table away, decorated in green and silver, clapped. Eyes eagerly followed my friends every movement, like vultures ready to swoop down on a rotting carcass, and Tom was immediately excepted with open arms from all around.


	3. Year Two, Part One

"Tom!" I called, face smiling as I ran towards my best friend. It had been a year since the sorting, and over the summer I had gotten more lady-like. My mother didn't ignore me as often, which was a plus, but the downside was that also meant my father no longer ignored me. Nonetheless, I was excited to be going back on the scarlet train and towards Hogwarts, the place I now happily called my home.

"Chamille," his cool, soothing voice flowed through me and I grinned at him. He had definitely grown over the summer, his clothes were smaller, his trousers not even going passed his ankles and his shoes were worn out and raggedy.

Briefly, I wondered if his family was poor, but discarded the thought. It didn't matter to me either way.

"How was your summer, Tom?"

"Perfect," he replied, though his voice had lost the bit of emotion it had, sounding colder. It meant he was lying. I knew that and he knew that, but neither of us mentioned the summer again, instead skipping it all together. Tom, like the gentleman he was, led me onto the Hogwarts Express and together we found an empty compartment and sat down across from each other.

The brown seats were in like-new condition, and I wondered if it was from magic or if they replaced the upholstery every year before throwing the thought out of my head. Mother and Father always said it was unattractive for a woman to think.

"How many new students do you think we'll get this year, Chamille?"

"Probably only fourteen or so, I didn't notice many new faces as we got onto the train."

I could have slapped myself as I said that. Father said it wasn't approved of for woman to pay attention, they were to sit there and look pretty, nothing more, nothing less.

Tom didn't seem to mind though, or if he did, he didn't show it. His face stayed the cool, calm and collected as I had always seen it. As students passed our compartment, they stopped to look in every once in a while to look in, but none came in to speak to Tom or myself.

"Tom, why don't you have more friends?" The question had popped unbidden into my mind, and as I always did, I blurted it out without thinking about how rude it sounded. His dark brown hair was combed over handsomely, except for one stray strand which hung into his face, making my hands itch to push it back.

"I don't need friendship."

My shoulders sagged as his words sank in. He didn't need my friendship. Perhaps he was only with me out of pity...was he?

"I only need one, anyways, and that's you."

A grin took over my tiny twelve-year-old face as he spoke and I practically threw myself at him in happiness, hugging him as tightly as I could.

"Get off of me, Chamille."

Calm...cool, emotionless. He was used to this happening by now, I was sure, I did it at least twice a month, I was always one to get over-excited.

"Sorry."

Twelve. There were only twelve new students, four were placed into Gryffindor. Four in Hufflepuff, two in Ravenclaw and two in Slytherin.

After the feast, the prefects led the new students to the dorm and though everyone was supposed to follow them up there, I didn't. Instead I walked towards the Black Lake, and stared out at the moons reflection in the dark waters. It was moments like this that I wished I could swim, so that I would have something else to do at that time, instead of staring at a lake. I could be swimming in it.

"You shouldn't be here."

I jerked around, looking for whoever had spoken but I couldn't see anyone.

"Hello?"

The grass tickled my feet and I remembered that I had taken my shoes off, but that wasn't my only problem. "Who is there?"

"You're supposed to be in your dorm Chamille."

My bottom lip trembled as tears spilled down my face. Terrified, that was the only word that could be used to describe how I felt at that moment. It was already dark outside, making it hard for me to see in the first place, and now there was someone talking to me..except there was nobody anywhere near me!

"Look up, Chamille!"

I stared up, and saw someone..in the tree? The person jumped down, revealing themselves to be none other than Tom, and I sighed in relief. "You scared me!"

"You shouldn't be here at night Chamille. It's dangerous for girls, anyone can come up and hurt you here."

The way his voice sounded suddenly seemed menacing, and his blue eyes flashed in the moonlight, causing me to back up.

"T-thanks Tom. I'll j-just go now, then. Good night."

My feet slapped hard against the unforgiving ground, and I realized the moment that I stepped on a rather sharp rock, that I had left my shoes back by the tree. I fell onto the ground, clutching my foot and cried out. It hurt a lot worse than I'd ever imagined stepping on a rock would, and I could feel the blood leaking out of it, onto my hand.

"Chamille, are you all right?"

Tom's voice had quickily lost that menacing aura, and instead it was just slightly concerned as he knelt down next to me.

"I'm f-fine. It's my fault, I'm sorry, I left my shoes back at the tree."

Tom grabbed my hand, his still felt as soft as when I first touched him last year as he helped me from the carriage. "Come on, I'll help you to your Common Room."

He allowed me to lean on him, something nobody else had ever let me do, and for once in my life I didn't feel like such a burden, as if nobody wanted me. Tom wanted me as a friend, Tom would help me. That's what friends were for, right?

"You're a good friend Tom."

For the first time, I saw a genuine smile cross his face.


End file.
